Games Lovers Play: The Pirate King

Posted: April 14, 2006
Title: Games Lovers Play: The Pirate King
Author: Ariel Tachna
Type: RPS
Characters: Orlando/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't know them. I make no claims about them. I just want to have fun.
Warnings: Role-playing, m/m sex
Beta: Namárië and kayem

Summary: A little role play, a little contest to see who is the true Pirate King.

*****

Orlando's cell phone rang, interrupting his concentration. He looked up from the script in his hand with a muttered curse. He still didn't know all his lines for tomorrow. The last thing he needed was to talk to someone. He grabbed the phone, intending to turn it off when he recognized the number. Viggo.

"Hello?" Orlando said, answering the phone. "Viggo? Where are you?"

"I'm in Idaho," Viggo's voice came back over the line. "I just wanted to let you know I made it home safely."

Orlando was shocked to his core. He had never heard Viggo sound so tired, not even during the hell that was Helm's Deep. "You sound terrible," Orlando said, concerned.

"Filming was rough," Viggo admitted. "And I'm not getting any younger. I'm all right. It's nothing a few days' sleep won't cure."

"I'm sorry I'm not home to take care of you," Orlando said, starting to get worried. Viggo never talked about his age anymore, certainly never admitted to feeling his age. Something must have happened. He was about to ask when Viggo spoke.

"I miss you, too, angel," Viggo said, smothering a yawn, "but I know all about contracts and filming schedules. You'll have a break in a month or so, right? We'll see each other then."

A month or so. That was way too long suddenly, especially when Viggo sounded so wrung out. "That's right," he replied, already trying to figure out how to get a break sooner so he could see for himself that Viggo was recovering from filming. "Get some rest," he directed. "Promise me that when we get off the phone, you'll go straight to bed."

"I'm in bed already," Viggo replied.

"Damn, and too tired for phone sex," Orlando quipped as he heard Viggo smother another yawn. "Go to sleep, love. I'll ravish you next time we talk."

"Next time," Viggo agreed, his voice getting sleepier and sleepier.

"I love you," Orlando said.

"Love you, too."

"Sweet dreams," Orlando added, but the line had already gone dead. He frowned. The situation had just gone from worrisome to intolerable. No matter how tired he was, Viggo usually made an attempt at phone sex. Tonight, he hadn't even done that. Orlando didn't know how to make it happen, but he knew one thing for sure. He had to go home. Immediately.

Glancing at the clock, he decided it wasn't too late to call Johnny and Keira. He didn't explain, just said he needed to talk to them. They both agreed to come to his hotel room right away. They were as good as their word, but by the time they arrived, Orlando had worked himself into a frenzy, pacing back and forth, sure that something was seriously wrong with Viggo, despite the other man's reassurances.

As soon as the door shut behind Johnny and Keira, Orlando was babbling. "I have to go home," he said urgently. "Something's wrong. You have to help me. I can't wait until the next break. What am I going to do?"

The words were one unbroken blur, his eyes shifting frantically from one face to another, until Keira grabbed his face in her hands. "Stop, Orli. Breathe," she ordered.

Orlando did as he was told, gulping down deep, panicked breaths.

"Slower," she directed.

Little by little, his breathing slowed and the panic receded. The worry remained, undiminished, but he was able to think rationally again. "Thanks," he said, reaching up to squeeze her hand where it still cradled his face.

"Now, tell us what's going on," Johnny requested. "Slowly."

"Viggo called," Orlando explained. "He's home from filming."

"That's good news, right?" Keira asked.

"I guess," Orlando said, the panic welling again as he remembered the conversation and the complete lack of energy in Viggo's voice, "except that I've never heard him sound so tired, even after months of night shoots in New Zealand. He couldn't even stay awake for a little phone sex."

"TMI," Johnny said immediately. "We love you like a brother, but we really don't want the details of your sex life, or lack thereof."

"Sorry," Orlando said. "That sounded so shallow, but he always makes an effort to flirt with me over the phone, at least a little, to keep the conversation going as long as we possibly can," he explained. "He sounded so tired, and then he didn't even try to joke or flirt. I don't know how to explain it really. It's just a gut feeling that something's wrong."

Keira looked at Orlando, at Johnny, then back at Orlando. "You're not going to be able to work like this. How long do you need?" she asked.

"A week," Orlando replied. "Two would be better, but I know that won't happen. I don't even know how I could get a week."

"Family emergency," Johnny replied.

"I can see them buying that if it were my mum or Sam, but nobody here knows about Viggo besides the two of you," Orlando said dejectedly.

"I really think you could tell Gore," Johnny said.

Orlando shook his head. "Damn morality clause," he replied. "I don't dare tell anyone else."

"Gore didn't write that contract, Disney did," Johnny reminded Orlando. "He's not going to call you on it."

"It's not a risk I can take," Orlando disagreed.

"So call your mum and get her to cover for you," Keira replied. "You've told me more than once how much she dotes on Viggo. She'll help you if you really feel like you can't tell Gore the truth."

*****

Several phone calls and a few fibs later, Orlando was on a plane to Idaho. Keira had driven him to the airport since Johnny had to be on set that morning. She kissed his cheek lightly as she dropped him off. "Take good care of Viggo," she whispered, "and come back ready to work. It's gonna be hell making up the time."

"I know," Orlando replied, "and I appreciate your support. If you and Johnny had nixed my going, I know Gore wouldn't have been so willing to change the filming schedule."

"It's the least we could do," Keira said. "I know this isn't Rings, but I like to think we're a family. Families look out for each other."

"Thanks again," Orlando said, knowing he had to hurry or he'd miss his plane. "For everything."

He ran for the plane, getting there just before the door closed. At least he didn't have luggage to worry about. He had plenty of stuff at the cabin in Idaho, and it would still be cool enough that his tropical clothes wouldn't be appropriate anyway. The long flight passed in contemplation of what could have made Viggo sound so tired and all the things Orlando was going to do to make his lover feel better. Making sure Viggo slept and ate properly was the first item on Orlando's list. For all that Viggo teased him about not taking care of himself, Viggo was just as bad, if not worse, than Orlando. Orlando at least had his back to remind him when it was time to slow down. He would use what he'd learned in all those months of physical therapy to ease whatever aches and pains Viggo had. Massages, exercises, whatever it took, he would make sure Viggo had it. For a week, Viggo would live the life of luxury. Orlando would see to his every need and would make sure he took care of himself. It was the least he could do after all the times Viggo had taken care of him.

*****

Orlando parked the car outside the cabin, leaving his carry-on in the car. There would be time to come back for it when he'd assured himself that Viggo was truly all right. He sprinted for the door through the late afternoon shower, fully expecting Viggo to open the door for him at any minute. His worry only increased when the door remained shut. It was unlocked, so Orlando knew Viggo was inside. Why had his lover not come to greet him?

"Viggo?" Orlando called urgently, starting up the stairs when he did not see Viggo in the large open first floor.

He found Viggo asleep on top of the covers, wearing loose jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt. A bandage surrounded Viggo's left ankle. "What have you done to yourself?" he muttered as he crossed the room and knelt on the bed at Viggo's side.

The movement of the mattress woke Viggo. "What are you doing here?" he asked groggily.

"Coming to take care of you," Orlando replied.

"You're supposed to be filming," Viggo insisted.

"Family emergency," Orlando grinned. The smile faded quickly, though, when he saw how run down Viggo looked. "I have a week before I have to get back, and I intend to see you better before I go. I have just what you need. A little TOC."

"Isn't that supposed to be TLC, angel?" Viggo asked wryly.

Orlando shook his head. "Nope. Tender Orli Care. That's what you need and what I'm going to provide."

Viggo smiled. "I can't think of anything better," he decided, lying back on the bed. "I haven't been this worn out in a while."

"What happened?" Orlando asked.

Viggo told Orlando about the hectic filming schedule and the misstep that had twisted his ankle and slowed everything down. He grimaced a little when he sat up and his foot caught in the blankets. "It's mostly better, but it's taken a lot longer than I thought it would to heal."

"You'll just have to stay off of it," Orlando declared. "Do you think you can stand a week in bed?"

"As long as you're here with me, I don't ever have to get up again," Viggo replied.

"Just try to keep me away."

"That would obviously be pointless," Viggo commented. A yawn stopped his next words. Orlando leaned over and kissed him.

"Rest until dinner," he said. "I'll get my bag and come join you."

*****

The first few days of the week passed exactly as Orlando had planned. He kept Viggo in bed the whole time, bringing him food, making him rest, pampering him every way Orlando could imagine. Viggo accepted the massages, the meals in bed, the tender care that Orlando had promised. He slept, letting his body recover from the aftereffects of the flu he had hidden from Orlando, and the injury that he could not. He trusted Orlando to take care of TJ and Uraeus, so even that was not enough to make him leave their bed. And the fact that Orlando joined him there at every possible occasion, holding him while he slept, cuddling up to him as they talked and shared all that had been going on since they last saw each other, made it all the sweeter. He definitely approved of the TOC. Except for one little thing.

Orlando was convinced Viggo was still too worn down to make love. And after four days of having Orlando in bed next to him with no relief, Viggo was horny as hell. Normally, he would simply seduce Orlando, but his lover had proved remarkably determined to resist those caresses, slipping away or catching Viggo's hands and telling him to rest every time Viggo tried to initiate anything. This called for drastic measures, Viggo decided. He slipped from bed long enough to put the DVD of Pirates of the Caribbean on and then climbed back in bed to watch his lover on the screen.

As always, watching Orlando with a sword in his hand had quite the effect on Viggo. The combination of the grace and control in the choreographed swordfight with Johnny and the phallic symbol of the sword always did Viggo in. His hand wandered over his torso as he watched, waiting for Orlando to return so he could take the next step in his plan to convince his lover that he was well.

As soon as Orlando walked into the room, Viggo looked up and smiled. "I love you, angel, but I'm not sure Will will ever be much of a pirate."

"He's a better pirate than Alatriste," Orlando replied, automatically jumping to the defense of his character.

"Oh, really?" Viggo challenged. "Care to put that to a test?"

"How?" Orlando asked warily.

"We can start with our costumes," Viggo suggested. "I know you have some of Will's costume from the first film. Get dressed and we'll see who makes the better pirate."

That seemed harmless enough to Orlando. "All right," he agreed. "That shouldn't overtax you too much."

Viggo hid a grin. If all went according to plan, the costumes would be just the beginning, and he would be quite "overtaxed" before the end, though not soon enough. As far as he was concerned, Orlando should have been overtaxing him since the moment he walked in the door.

Orlando hurried down the hall to the room where he kept all his memorabilia from his films. Bits of costumes and props, old scripts, pictures, souvenirs, all the paraphernalia that helped remind him of the process of the film, not just the product. He had Will Turner's costume from the first POTC lovingly stored away there. Piece by piece, he pulled out the costume: voluminous white shirt, snug trousers, brown tunic, belt and scabbard, red cape, debonair hat with the long flowing feather. Will's sword was downstairs, displayed above the mantle with Anduril and Balian's sword. Orlando imagined they'd be rearranging the display soon to include Alatriste's sword if Viggo had convinced the prop masters to let him have it. He dressed quickly, not worrying about the sword. If Viggo wanted that level of authenticity, he'd go get it then. It's not like they were really authentic anyway.

Walking back into the bedroom, Orlando realized he had spoken too soon. He knew Viggo was a method actor. He'd known it since a few days after meeting the Man who didn't want to be King. Viggo had become Aragorn in many ways and for much of the time even off set. They had done the occasional role play, either in their actual roles or in roles they had created for themselves, and Viggo took those as seriously as any film, pushing the limits of his own control, and Orlando's, in the effort to stay in character until the very end. When they had played lord and servant, Orlando had been sure he would expire before Viggo finally broke character. Orlando might not have felt terribly authentic, despite his bravura in defending his character, but Alatriste stood in front of him now, not Viggo. The stance, the look on his face, the animal magnetism, the way he inhabited his clothes... Viggo was not wearing a costume. Alatriste was wearing his own, long familiar attire.

Orlando was not going to give up that easily, though. He might not have had Viggo's facility for inhabiting a role, but he was a good actor. He could bring Will Turner into the room.

"Who be you?" Viggo asked with a heavy Spanish accent, circling around the younger man.

"William Turner," Orlando replied. "Who are you?"

"Alatriste," Viggo replied as if that should have been obvious.

Orlando looked him up and down. There was no denying that he was a handsome man, with his wicked air enhanced by the red bandana tied around his head, the heavy boots and tight pants, the white shirt only loosely buttoned, revealing a sun-darkened chest. He recognized the look all too well. "I suppose you're a pirate," he said with a trace of the scorn of one who had grown up hating pirates.

"A mercenary," Viggo corrected.

Orlando nodded haughtily. "I know your kind," he said with a bit of a sneer. "I've sailed with one before."

"So you be a pirate, too," Viggo challenged, advancing toward the younger man.

"Only occasionally," Orlando replied. He could not deny that he had helped Jack steal a ship to go after Elizabeth or that he had helped the pirate escape from Norrington's clutches.

"Once a pirate, always a pirate though I must say, you be not much of a pirate," Viggo sneered through his moustache. "Who's your captain?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Orlando replied proudly.

Viggo laughed. "You sail with Sparrow?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," Orlando replied. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with Sparrow," Viggo answered. "I just have trouble believing that he would let you on his ship looking like that."

"Like what?" Orlando demanded defensively. Even as he did, he could not help but notice that the moustache that had so annoyed him on the man looked incredible on the pirate.

Letting his shoulder bump into Orlando's as he approached the younger man, Viggo flicked a disdainful finger against the feather in Orlando's hat. "What self-respecting pirate would wear such a foppish hat?"

*****

Incensed, Orlando doffed his hat and threw it on the bed, trying to find something in Alatriste's costume that he could insult. If there was anything that did not fit the part perfectly, Viggo had not put it on.

Viggo hid his grin when the hat came off, glad for the moustache that obscured his mouth, in part anyway. This was far too simple. "How do you fight in such a cumbersome cloak?" he challenged. "You are no good to your captain if you cannot wield a sword."

Orlando sputtered in indignation. He'd show Viggo swordplay! "Can't wield a sword, you say? Perhaps you would care to test that?" The words were out of Will's mouth before Orlando could catch himself. Viggo was getting over being injured. He did not need to be sparring with Orlando. It was too late, though. He had issued the challenge and Viggo was already bowing his acceptance.

"Not here," Viggo said. "There is not enough room."

"Downstairs," Orlando replied, motioning Viggo to precede him. He had to go down there anyway to get his sword. Following Viggo would let him see how well his lover's ankle had healed. Before he left the room, he threw his cape on the bed next to the hat.

There was no hitch in Viggo's step as he descended the stairs, reassuring Orlando and turning his thoughts to the upcoming duel. They had crossed swords before, on more than one occasion. Orlando had asked Viggo for help with form during the filming of the first Pirates. At that time, with only Legolas' training with the knives as background, Viggo had won their matches easily. Since then, though, Orlando had filmed the first Pirates and Kingdom of Heaven and was working on the next two installments of Pirates. His skill with a blade had improved greatly. He did not know if he could beat Viggo now, especially with the training his lover had done for Alatriste, but he had a better chance than ever before. Plus, Viggo had been exhausted and injured. He would be slower because of it. If he ever had a chance of beating Viggo, it was now.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Orlando headed straight for the fireplace, pulling down Will Turner's sword. He saluted Viggo and waited.

Viggo sized up his opponent. Orlando had lost a lot of the bulk from his role as Balian, but the underlying strength was still there. The hilt of the sword nestled in his hand with easy familiarity, a familiarity that Viggo had helped him achieve. That thought made him proud even as it made him realize how hard he would have to work to win. His ankle was much better for the days of enforced rest and the weakness brought on by the flu had definitely been eased by Orlando's tender care. He could tell, though, that he was not at full strength. If he could disarm Orlando quickly, he could win, but the longer the fight lasted, the more difficult it would be. Guile would definitely be his best route if he wanted to win, and losing would not help his crusade to convince Orlando that he was well. Or well enough for some serious loving anyway. Viggo drew his own sword and returned Orlando's salute, waiting for his lover to begin.

Seeing Viggo return his salute, Orlando took a deep breath and began, his sword darting out toward Viggo, only to be caught on the edge of Viggo's blade. The swords clanged, neither man giving way. Orlando could not help but be pleased that Viggo was strong enough to counter his blow. It meant the exhaustion had eased over the past few days. He was quite certain Viggo could not have opposed him so easily that first night he was home.

Viggo's thrust drew Orlando's attention back to their duel. If he let his mind wander, he would lose for sure. Back and forth they sallied, dancing across the room in one direction and then in the other, testing each other, seeking each other's weaknesses, finding none that they were skilled enough to exploit. Sweat broke out on their brows as they sparred, darkening their hair, dampening their shirts. Pulses pounded as the exercise took its toll on both men.

Viggo could not help admiring the play of Orlando's muscles under his sweat-drenched shirt as Orlando thrust and parried. Needing to keep his thoughts in line and on the duel, he challenged, "How long have you sailed for Sparrow?" He made his voice as disparaging as he could.

"I'm not a pirate," Orlando insisted, dragging his thoughts away from their dangerous preoccupation with the beads of sweat beading on Viggo's neck. "I just helped him out once when he did me a favor."

"I think His Majesty's navy would consider that an act of piracy," Viggo pointed out, pressing Orlando as hard as he could.

"I was pardoned, since we did it to rescue the Governor's daughter," Orlando replied, rebuffing the attack.

Viggo could feel his reserves draining, and quickly. If he did not finish it soon, Orlando would take him from sheer endurance. Viggo was not opposed, in general, to being taken, but he had the feeling that there would not be such a favorable result if Orlando won. He would use it as proof that Viggo was still not recovered. No, Viggo needed to win if he had any hope of getting the loving he desired. A change of tactics was in order.

Rather than trying to disarm Orlando, Viggo started trying to distract him. The edge of his sword caught the top button of Orlando's vest, sending it flying across the room. Orlando's eyes widened in surprise, but he stayed in character and continued the duel, even succeeding in ridding Viggo of one of his buttons. Viggo's concentration never wavered. Orlando could strip him bare if he so chose. That was what Viggo wanted anyway, the two of them, curled up together, naked.

Blinking his eyes against the sweat that covered his brow, Viggo ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. The hand came away wet. Catching Orlando's eye, Viggo let his hand fall to his thigh, drawing Orlando's eyes downward. Viggo took advantage of his lover's temporary distraction to separate another button from Orlando's vest, revealing the open collar of his shirt.

"Do you carry such a big sword for a reason?" Viggo asked conversationally as he picked off another button.

"So when I meet a pirate, I can kill him," Orlando retorted.

"And yet you sailed with a pirate. That makes so much sense," Viggo observed.

"That was different!" Orlando exclaimed. "I wanted to help Miss Swann."

Viggo nodded sagely. "That explains it then. I thought perhaps you were compensating for something. Perhaps a lack of skill. After all, you can't have too much time to spend on swordplay when you so clearly spend so much time on clothes." Another button went flying, leaving the vest open to the waist.

"At least I'm successful enough to afford nice clothes," Orlando snapped.

If Viggo had been at full strength, he would have continued the duel until Orlando's shirt hung open at his sides, tangling his arms and imprisoning him. As delightful an image as that was, though, Viggo knew he did not have the reserves left to take the duel that far. If he could disarm Orlando quickly, he ought to be able to recreate his fantasy image with no opposition. Remembering a move Bob Anderson had shown him once, Viggo pretended to stumble, lowering his sword, inviting Orlando to take advantage, but when Orlando moved in, Viggo raised his sword, connecting with Orlando's blade near the hilt, knocking it from the other man's hand. He lifted the tip of his sword to Orlando's chest and started advancing toward him, a flick of his wrist sending another button, then another, flying.

Orlando's hands came up in a gesture of surrender, a gasp of genuine surprise leaving his throat when his sword went sailing out of his hand. He backed away from Viggo's teasing blade until he hit the wall. The tip of Viggo's sword never wavered in its task of removing the buttons from Orlando's shirt. Orlando could not stop his eager grin. "Now that you've defeated me, what are you going to do with me?"

"What any good pirate does with his treasure," Viggo replied. "Enjoy you."

*****

Orlando shivered in delight at Viggo's words. The duel had proven that Viggo was, if not completely recovered, certainly well enough to enjoy a different sort of swordplay. Orlando made the conscious decision to stop worrying about Viggo's stamina and to reap the benefits of their game. "Enjoy me?" he challenged, hoping the shiver would be read as revulsion. "I'm not some sweetmeat for your delectation."

"Is that so?" Viggo asked, looking at the sweet-salty flesh he knew so well through the parted sides of Will's shirt. "You look most sweet to me!"

With the tip of his sword, Viggo gestured sideways. "Vamanos," he ordered, indicating the direction of the stairs.

"Where are you taking me?" Orlando challenged again as he backed away from Viggo's advancing blade until his heels hit the stairs. Orlando knew exactly where this was going, but Will needed to put up at least some semblance of a fight. Otherwise, their play would lose all its power. Maintaining the illusion was key to their games, even though reality often peeked in through their words.

"A mi cabina," Viggo replied nonchalantly, the Spanish words rolling off his tongue with elegant ease after all the months spent in Spain. "¡Subida!"

Orlando had no choice but to climb the stairs as Viggo - Alatriste - ordered. Still, he was not ready to abandon his character just yet. He had to retain some honor in the situation. "You'll get no pleasure from me," he insisted stubbornly.

Viggo grinned at him wolfishly from beneath Alatriste's moustache. They both knew that was a lie, but Viggo did not call him on it. It was much more fun to play the game. "Have I asked for pleasure?" Viggo inquired, his accent thickening. "I have said only that you look like a tasty morsel. That requires nothing of you. It is merely an observation. You have nothing to fear from me. I will take good care of you."

"I'm not some innocent miss you've stolen off a passenger ship," Orlando replied. He and Viggo had already played that game, with mind-blowing results. M'lord Viggo had seduced and corrupted Orli within an inch of his sanity. As wonderful as it had been, though, Orlando was not in the mood for a repeat. He wanted something new and different. "I know all about pirates and their cabins. They never just invite you for dinner."

Viggo frowned. "Sparrow coerced you into his bed?" That was a wrinkle he had not expected.

Orlando shook his head. He could not allow that to pass even in a role play. He and Johnny were too good friends to let Viggo make the suggestion. "Coerced?" Orlando repeated. "Did I say I was unwilling?"

Viggo understood. Orlando had no desire to play the shrinking violet of a virgin this time. That was fine. It opened an entirely new set of options for their delectation. The wolfish grin returned along with a predatory gleam that was a sure sign of his determination. If Sparrow had succeeded in seducing the lad, Alatriste would do no less. Sparrow was a decent pirate, but Alatriste would not be bested by any man. With a little persuasion, Will would be his.

"Then you know the pleasure you will find in my cabin," Viggo purred, advancing on Orlando.

Orlando recognized that grin. He had pricked Viggo's pride and he knew what that meant. Viggo would do whatever it took to prove, once again, his mastery over Orlando's senses. And what a treat that would be! He cast around for additional ways to prod Viggo's possessive instincts.

Orlando backed up the steps. "No, I know what I found in Jack's cabin. I will not find its like here." He chose his words carefully. He wanted to prod Viggo's possessive instincts, to challenge Alatriste at every turn, but he did not want to cast any doubt on his true feelings. And his words were true. What he would find here, with Viggo, would be nothing like what he had found with Johnny, on the evenings they had sat in one hotel room or another, sharing a drink, maybe even a smoke, commiserating because they missed their lovers.

The challenge in Orlando's words rang out like a trumpet blast. Seduce me, they screamed to the man while they warned the pirate away. Woo me, persuade me, make me yours. Viggo accepted the challenge silently, promising to make this a night unlike any other. He wondered how long Orlando would be able to hold to his show of reluctance. And then he wondered how long he would be able to maintain his control if Orlando broke character.

"Your loyalty is misplaced," Viggo assured him. "He is certainly not faithful to you." They had spent enough time with Johnny and his wife to know all too well where Johnny's loyalties lay.

"That is his choice," Orlando insisted. "Mine is loyalty to my captain." Once again, Orlando chose innuendo over blunt speech. They both knew who his captain really was.

"You do not know what you are missing." Viggo's silk and sandpaper voice rasped against Orlando's ear as they moved toward the bedroom. Orlando suppressed a chuckle. After five years, he was familiar with Viggo's repertoire. If anything was missing, Orlando had yet to notice it!

"I am missing nothing," Orlando replied with profound self-assurance. "Only one man's touch can rouse me." He left the name unspoken, the implication that he meant Jack was clear, but they both understood what he truly meant.

"Is that so?" Viggo questioned, letting wounded pride fill his voice, though his heart sang with glee at the underlying truth in Orlando's words.

"It is," Orlando affirmed as they crossed the threshold into their bedroom, Alatriste's sword still hovering near Orlando's chest. Viggo chose that moment to use the sword to lift Orlando's vest from one shoulder, sliding it down his arm, trapping his elbow at his side. A deft movement of his hand repeated the action on the other side. Orlando chose to let the garment fall to the floor so he would have his hands free.

"I think you are wrong," Viggo replied, the accent coming to the fore again as he slipped deeper into character. "The Englishmen, they are too restrained, too controlled. They do not know what it means to give in completely to their desires. Sparrow is a little better than most of his countrymen, I will give you that, but even he cannot compare to the passion of a Latin lover. Tell me, did he ever make you so overcome with passion that you forgot your own name? That you forgot where you were or who might be listening? That you lost all touch with reality as he took you?"

Orlando flushed at Viggo's words. He knew those sensations. Intimately. But it was Viggo's touch, Viggo's passion, that caused them. "N... no," he stuttered. Struggling to regain his character's defiance, he added, "but I do not believe you can do that to me either."

"Oh, you do not?" Viggo challenged. "We shall have to see, won't we?"

"You will not bait me that way," Orlando replied. "I won't fall into your trap."

"Then it will not matter if I do this," Viggo commented as he circled Orlando, sword lowering marginally, fingers reaching out to trail teasingly down the side of his lover's neck. For days, Orlando had been evading every seductive touch as he sought to pamper and heal. Now, finally, Orlando was no longer pulling away. Viggo's fingers tingled at the contact with the slightly damp skin. He longed for much more, but he would not rush their game. The longer they stayed in character, the more they gained from their play.

"I will not fight you," Orlando replied, the touch of Viggo's hand sending disproportionate tremors rushing through him. It seemed their days of celibacy were catching up with him. He wondered how long Will would be able to resist Alatriste's advances. "I have no desire to have that sword in your hand run me through, but that does not mean I welcome your touch."

"We shall see," was the Spaniard's only response as he drew close to the young blacksmith turned pirate. Alatriste was too proud a man to take by force what he desired to be given freely. No, he would seduce the younger man into submission if it took all night.

*****

Orlando trembled again at those words. The wealth of promise in them went straight to his groin. He had stood a chance against Viggo when they dueled with swords, but this was a fight he had no chance of winning, not when every fiber of his being shouted at him to forget the game and throw himself on Viggo. He did not, though. He had learned long ago that the patience that went into playing their games resulted in more than ample rewards. He simply had to remain in control.

The hand that had so recently worked its enticing magic on Orlando's neck left his skin and moved on to play with the ends of the long curls he sported as Will Turner. They were wet from the exertion of the duel, but that bothered Viggo not at all. If anything, he intended to add to the dampness before the afternoon was over. "So soft," he observed casually, "like the finest silk from the Orient. But then, you are perhaps not familiar with the bounty of the east, being so focused on your little islands."

Orlando tensed at the feel of Viggo's hand in his hair. He had just started to relax when the taunting words penetrated the fog of lust that his lover's touch always inspired. "You do not further your cause by insulting me," he pointed out.

"You do not further yours by telling me how not to drive you away," Viggo retorted, letting the back of his hand slide down Orlando's smooth jaw to his chin. He turned his hand and cupped one smooth cheek. "But I will not complain. The more I learn of you, the easier my task will be."

Orlando had to forcibly stop himself from snorting at that comment. As if Viggo needed to learn anything else about him to seduce him! He had been a master of that art since their first night together. All it took, all it would ever take, was the touch of Viggo's hand or a whisper of his love, and Orlando was putty in the older man's hands. That it was mutual was an added bonus, and one that made Orlando smile every time he pondered it.

Viggo leaned forward to kiss Orlando. Orlando saw it coming and mustered every ounce of his will to turn his head. He would never be able to let their lips touch and still pretend reluctance. Even when they were fighting, the simple touch of their lips brought everything else to a halt. If he wanted to continue their game, that touch, above all others, had to be avoided. He managed in the nick of time and Viggo's lips brushed his cheek instead of his mouth. "Why do you resist?" Viggo asked, pleased to see from Orlando's gesture that he was committed to continuing their game. As well as they knew each other, he always learned something new when they played these games. He would never get tired of simply loving Orlando, but the spice that the games added to their relationship, and the deeper knowledge that came out of them, were benefits that he relished. He nuzzled Orlando's cheek, working his way toward his lover's ear as he spoke. "You know there is no escape. Even if you left my cabin, you could not leave my ship, and my sailors would simply return you to me. Let me show you how good a real man can make you feel."

"Show me a real man and maybe I'll think about it," Orlando retorted, pulling away. He knew he would never find a better man than the one he already had. Still, his character demanded certain responses.

"You wound me with your doubts," Viggo scolded. "You think I do not have what it takes to please you? You will see how wrong you are. I will show you things that Sparrow cannot begin to offer." He caught Orlando in a firm embrace, aligning their bodies back to chest, buttocks to groin. His hands roved daringly over Orlando's body, under his open shirt. They brushed quickly across Orlando's nipples and then down, over his burgeoning erection. They did not linger, but their teasing was enough to have Orlando trembling. "Does Sparrow hold you this way? Is his grip as firm? His touch as sure?"

Orlando knew that Will would have denied it, if only out of loyalty to Jack, but Orlando could not make the words come out of his mouth. He knew they were acting, that this was, in many ways, no different than any other role, but he could not do it. He would not deny what Viggo made him feel. He spent too much time and energy hiding it when they were apart. He would not hide it while they were together. "No," he whispered, letting his emotions cause his voice to break as if the confession were wrung out of him against his will.

Orlando's answer caught Viggo off guard. He had expected Will to deny any reaction to Alatriste's touch, if only out of loyalty to his captain. The honesty in the admission rocked his control. It was unlike Orlando to fall out of character so quickly and that threatened his own ability to remain Alatriste. Struggling to keep it together, he searched for an excuse to pull away for a few minutes so that he could keep the game from ending before it had barely begun. Seizing on inspiration, he said, "I have something else to offer you that Sparrow cannot match. I imagine rum is the best he has to offer you. I have a far better drink."

Orlando was more than a little surprised at Viggo's suggestion, but he was nothing if not flexible. "Do you think I will be more amenable after a few drinks? Is that your plan?" he asked. Whether it was the plan or not, it would almost certainly work. Orlando had few enough inhibitions when he was sober. Add alcohol to the equation and he had none, especially where Viggo was concerned.

"It has never failed me yet," Viggo replied flippantly. He leaned forward and blew softly in Orlando's ear. "Do not do anything... foolish... while I'm gone. The door is locked. There is no escape."

He was gone before Orlando could decide how to react. Despite his better judgment, he felt a spark of jealousy at Viggo's words. He hated the idea that his lover might have played these games, or something similar, with former lovers. He had no illusions that he was Viggo's first lover, and usually, the knowledge that he would be the last, and the lasting, one more than made up for the time that came before, but for some reason, it bothered him tonight. He told himself he was being ridiculous, that Alatriste had spoken, not Viggo, and that the words were simply part of an ad lib script, that they had no relevance in their real lives. He told himself those things, but they had no effect on the surge of emotions. Their relationship had started from a drunken kiss in a dance club in New Zealand, but Viggo had not pressed his advantage that night, and had used the excuse of Orlando's mild drunkenness to avoid Orlando and the topic for weeks. He would probably still be avoiding the subject if Orlando had not taken matters into his own hands. Was Viggo telling him he had used the gambit of alcohol in the past for his own ends? He had not used it with Orlando. What did that say about their relationship? In Orlando's current, rattled state of mind, the answer was nothing good. Would they be together now if Orlando had not acted? He could only hope that Viggo would have said something eventually, because the alternative, that their relationship somehow meant less to Viggo than it did to him, was unthinkable. And yet, they were together so rarely, and when they were, it was in secret. They had told only their closest friends, and it was suddenly more than Orlando could bear. Certainly, Viggo seemed to deal with their separations better than Orlando did. Was that a sign? Had Viggo suddenly grown less interested in them? He kept trying to tell himself that he was overreacting, but that did nothing to calm his wayward thoughts.

Viggo had no clue as to the turmoil besieging his lover as he made his way down the steps to retrieve the bottle of port he had brought back with him from Spain. When he had first tasted it, he had known he had to share it with Orlando. He had not expected the opportunity to arise so soon, but he was not about to complain. They would share a glass of aged port, finish their game, and spend the rest of Orlando's time at home in bed together. It sounded like a perfect plan to Viggo, and in the meantime, he had a "reluctant" young man in his bedroom just waiting to be seduced. Life was definitely good.

Retrieving the bottle of port and two glasses, he made his way back upstairs as quickly as his ankle would allow. He opened the door and walked back inside. Orlando's back was toward him, but Viggo was sure he would turn around immediately and resume their game. "Aged port, straight from Spain," he said with a courtly bow. "Shall I pour you a glass?"

Orlando turned, as Viggo expected, but the hot, angry gaze surprised him. "Spanish port," he repeated. "Is that what you offered your other victims? Did it ease their fears and make them welcome your touch?" His tone was venomous. "You will find I am made of sterner stuff than that."

Viggo was taken aback. He had not expected this reaction. He could not help but wonder where Orlando's reaction came from, but he decided it was part of the roles they were playing. After all, he could not expect Will to abandon Jack quite so easily. "You are the first to complain," he replied easily. "Come, would it be so terrible to share a glass with me?"

They were the absolute wrong words to choose in Orlando's current state of mind. He turned away, struggling for control, telling himself he was being ridiculous, that he was going to spoil an otherwise pleasurable game, but the words did no good, and when Viggo appeared beside him, glass in hand, he knocked the glass away, sending it crashing to the hardwood floor where it shattered, port draining from the broken bulb onto the floor. "I won't be just another conquest in a long line," he shouted. "If that's all you have to offer, then I'm better off with Jack." He pulled away from Viggo's hand and started for the door.

Viggo stood there for a moment, dumbstruck. He had no idea what had gone through Orlando's head while he was gone, but something had just gone very, very wrong.

*****

Lunging for his escaping lover, Viggo caught Orlando's wrist. "Wait," he said. "What happened?"

Orlando jerked his arm out of Viggo's grasp, much too hard for the general bounds of their games. He did not, however, try to continue out the door. "You speak so casually of those that came before me, and you expect me to simply fall in line as your next conquest? What reaction did you expect?"

Viggo frowned. The voice was Will's, but the underlying anger seemed all too real. He replayed his words in his head and realized his joking comment about using port as part of past seductions must have triggered Orlando's outburst, but he did not understand why. He took a step closer to the younger man. "Is it really fair to hold my past against me?" he asked softly, in his own voice, not Alatriste's. "I had not even met you yet."

"You are a pirate, are you not?" Orlando retorted, still very much in character, still very much annoyed, though he knew it was illogical. They had spent so much time apart recently, so much more than they had together, and it was taking its toll, all at once. "Unfaithfulness is a hallmark of that breed. Isn't that what you told me about Jack? Why should I think you are any different?"

Viggo's frown deepened. Orlando was obviously on quite a tear, but he seemed reluctant to talk about it, which was doubly odd. Viggo could push for answers, end the game and insist Orlando talk to him, or he could let it play out and see what was revealed. If Orlando was hiding behind his character, that said something about how uncertain he felt. Viggo did not dismiss the anger and whatever was causing it. If it had Orlando this worked up, it needed to be addressed, regardless of how illogical the motivation. Doing so in the context of their game seemed wise since Orlando appeared more likely to let Will say the things he himself was hesitant to say.

"My earlier conquests, as you choose to call them, left of their own free will," Viggo replied, slipping back into Alatriste's voice, though the words were his own. He drew Orlando back toward the bed, but gently this time, persuading rather than pushing. "They had no more desire for permanence than I did."

No desire for permanence.

The words struck a nerve in Orlando. It sometimes felt to him like Viggo was the only permanent fixture in his life. He prayed fervently that Viggo was not growing tired of him. He did not know if he could survive losing his one anchor, the one person who reminded him of the man beneath the image that the public saw. "Am I no different in your eyes?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Is it so wrong of me to desire permanence?"

The words rocked Viggo to his very core. He had thought them long beyond such questions, yet the earnest tone of Will's voice told Viggo that these were not just words in a script, but true fears in Orlando's heart. Where had this sudden doubt come from? He did not know, but he had to find a way to soothe it. And as much as he wanted to simply draw his lover into his arms and whisper all the promises Orlando needed to hear, he restrained himself. Whatever form his comfort took, it would have to be done without breaking character, since Orlando was clearly not ready to discuss this as themselves.

"It is an uncommon desire for a pirate, difficult to achieve given our lifestyle," Viggo replied slowly, reaching out for Orlando's hand, cradling it in his own. "We come and go with the wind, dependent on her caprices. You are the first I have met to have such a wish." He hoped Orlando understood that he was speaking of the burdens their careers placed on them, the toll that the constant publicity took on their private time. A part of him wanted to push Orlando into talking out of character, so they could be clear and avoid more misunderstandings, but he tried to respect Orlando's need for the safety of speaking in Will's voice.

Orlando nodded, trying to decipher Viggo's words. The lives they led put constant strain on any relationship, regardless of who was involved. He had former co-stars as proof of that. The fact that their relationship involved two men only complicated matters more. Orlando hated that these doubts had suddenly reared their head, interfering with what should have been a light-hearted game. He knew it would be simpler to let Will go and talk to Viggo about what was bothering him, but he did not want to talk about it at all. At least doing so in character let him take a step back.

"What would it take?" Orlando asked. "To have something lasting?"

Viggo gaped at Orlando before looking down to where his ring rested on Orlando's finger, even in character. He did not know how much more lasting he could make their relationship.

"To never have to part?" Orlando added softly, his own eyes settling on the ring he wore. Viggo had put it there, and Orlando only took it off to film. His fingers curled around Viggo's as he remembered the promises they had made and kept. He knew his current desire was unrealistic, but it was deeply rooted nonetheless. Even if they came out, they would have to part to pursue their careers, or what was left of their careers.

Viggo was beginning to understand, or at least he thought he was. "It is a tempting thought," he agreed, "but you are not a pirate. You told me so yourself. Are you willing to give up your current livelihood? To give up your loyalty to Jack? That is what it would take."

"I don't know," Orlando admitted. "I only know that my experiences with Jack have taught me that I need more than stolen moments when we are both free. I do not know how much longer I can live that way."

Viggo's heart broke to hear the desperation in Orlando's voice. He knew their separations were difficult, on both of them, but he had not realized it went this deep. This was something they would have to discuss again, out of character, where the opportunity for misunderstandings was less. In the meantime, he needed to make Orlando feel better. "Let me show you how good we could be together?" he suggested gently, his thumb stroking the inside of Orlando's wrist where their hands joined. "So that you can make your decision wisely."

Orlando sighed. "I... think I would like that," he replied slowly, a tremor of desire running through him when he felt the rough callus on Viggo's thumb against his skin, "but I have certain commitments to Jack that I must fulfill before I can be free to change my loyalty completely. Will you wait for me?" He hoped Viggo would understand what commitments he was referring to. He could not just walk away from filming Pirates, nor from the publicity events he had already agreed to for Elizabethtown. Even if he never made another film, he owed it to his current and former costars to make good on his current commitments.

"I will wait for you to share my life completely, if that is truly what you wish, but I do not think I can wait to make love to you," Viggo admitted honestly.

"For that, I do not want you to wait," Orlando said, finally letting the desire his anger had extinguished reignite.

*****

Relief surged through Viggo's system at Orlando's words. Finally, it appeared they were back on track. He did not pretend that they had resolved the problem, that the issue would simply disappear, but they could set it aside now, for a time, and love each other properly. Viggo vowed to make love to Orlando like he had never done before, to lavish so much attention, so much affection on the younger man that Orlando would never again have cause to doubt their relationship. Mentally, he approached it in character. Alatriste was touching Will, making love to Will for the first time, and while it would not be a repeat of his and Orlando's first time together - Will claimed not to be a virgin - it would be a time of discovery. Viggo would use that as an excuse to linger over each sensitive swatch of flesh, every tender touch a renewed promise, if only Orlando would understand.

He let himself slide into the mindset of a Latin lover, determined to prove his prowess to a new lover. Considering various avenues of attack, he settled finally on Orlando's hands, lifting one, then the other to his lips, pressing open-mouthed kisses on the lightly callused palms, licking at the sensitive webbing between the long fingers. "Querido," he murmured as he turned Orlando's hand so that he could reach the inside of his lover's wrist. Orlando was particularly sensitive there, and Viggo knew the brush of his moustache would drive Orlando wild.

Orlando had wondered whether Viggo would remain in character after his admission. The Spanish endearment answered that question. Capitán Diego Alatriste was still very much in command and clearly set on claiming young Will Turner. Fortunately, Orlando was willing to be claimed, his fears assuaged enough by their conversation to relax into the seduction. He had told Viggo numerous times that he did not need to be seduced, but Viggo never listened, a fact Orlando had come to appreciate over the five years of their relationship. The murmured endearment, one Orlando had heard countless times, warmed his heart. He knew "querido," but he also knew that at any moment, that voice could start down a trail that his mind would not be able to follow. It would not matter. The rasp of Viggo's voice was the sound of love in any language. With that thought, Orlando realized how unfounded his earlier reaction had been. Viggo proved, in countless ways, his love and devotion each time he and Orlando were together. They would simply have to find ways to be together more often. Then Viggo's moustache was brushing against his wrist, and that drove all rational thought out of his head. He relaxed into the touch and let Viggo have his way.

Viggo knew the exact moment Orlando capitulated. He had no idea what had caused his lover's surrender, but he felt it. Orlando was his for the taking now. All Viggo had to do was decide how to go about it. He would work out the details as he went, but one thing was certain. He would do anything and everything he could think of to maximize Orlando's pleasure. Everything else was secondary.

Releasing Orlando's hands, Viggo reached for the open shirt that hung loosely from his lover's sides. He peeled it back and off, letting it fall to the floor. Slowly, he circled Orlando, letting his eyes wander over the bare flesh. Orlando was not as muscular as he had been a few months earlier, during the filming of Kingdom of Heaven, but he had retained a lot of it, especially compared to how thin he had been in New Zealand. His hand drifted up to the line of muscles across his back, his fingers tracing appreciatively. "You may dress like a fop," he commented, "but it is clear you know the meaning of work."

"It's hard work being a blacksmith," Orlando replied, his eyes closing as Viggo's fingers continued to draw abstract patterns on his back.

Viggo hummed in response as his fingers wandered up to Orlando's curls and then back down to follow the curve of muscle under the younger man's arm until they settled across his chest, cradling the curve of his pec, just beneath his nipple. "You have the body to show for it," he observed. "My beautiful blacksmith."

"Am I yours, Capitán?" Orlando asked.

"Totalmente mio," Viggo assured him. "Y yo soy tuyo."

The words settled into Orlando's heart, reassuring him once again. He leaned back a little, letting his body come to rest lightly against Viggo's chest. Relaxing into that contact, he let himself drift, safe in the knowledge that Viggo would take care of him. He had the stray thought that he was supposed to be taking care of Viggo, but his lover was clearly on the mend, and Orlando was in more need of care than he had realized. Fortunately, Viggo was astute enough to recognize that. A small part of Orlando felt guilty that their role-play had turned out this way, but Viggo did not seem put out, and Orlando's slowly building desire was pushing all other thoughts out of his mind. Deciding he could leave those concerns for later, he gave himself totally over to what remained of their game. Will was supposed to be shy still, hesitant, even if willing, so he could not actively seduce Viggo, but he could encourage his lover with words and actions.

A small sigh of pleasure escaped him as Viggo's fingers shifted, the blunt nails scraping gently across his skin. He arched into the touch, perhaps a little more than necessary, but he wanted to let his body express what he could not say in character. Not yet, anyway.

Orlando's movement was all the hint Viggo needed, and enough for Alatriste as well. He raised his fingers, letting them find and tease the nipple that had been just out of reach. He plucked at it gently, as if testing to see how sensitive the dusky flesh was and which touch was most pleasing to his new lover. The whimper that escaped Orlando's lips assured the captain that the areola was very sensitive indeed. "Like that?" he asked, repeating the gentle caress. "Or like this?" His fingers squeezed a little more tightly, giving the blacksmith a choice.

Orlando tried to debate his character's preferences, but that was an exercise in futility. Instead, he simply moaned his pleasure, leaving it up to Viggo to decide.

Viggo, though, was having none of it. He wanted this to be the perfect experience for Orlando, and that meant giving the younger man what he wanted, not what Viggo wanted. "Which one?" he asked again.

Orlando whimpered again, this time in protest as he struggled to form a reply even as Viggo's fingers continued alternating between gentle and rougher caresses. "Like that," he gasped when Viggo's fingers pinched lightly, a hint of nails on his flesh. There was no pain - the touch was not rough enough for that - simply a surge of pleasure like only Viggo could provide.

Viggo repeated the caress, the light pinch, the hint of nails, and smiled as he heard the same gasp of pleasure. His other hand rose to Orlando's other nipple, those fingers mimicking the others, drawing more small cries from Orlando's lips. "Tan responsivo," he whispered. "Tan sensible." He caressed both nipples again, relishing the ever-increasing weight of Orlando's body against his. "Can you come from this?" he growled.

They both knew the answer to that question, especially given how long it had been since they were last together. "I don't... know," Orlando gasped as Viggo's fingers tightened seductively on his aching flesh.

"I think we should find out," Viggo replied huskily, turning Orlando toward the bed and urging him down onto it. When Orlando was settled, Viggo straddled his lover's thighs, his fingers returning to their previous occupation while his lips lowered to join them. His tongue flicked out to swipe across the tight nub of flesh. "Did your captain do this to you?" he asked. "Did he teach you to enjoy these pleasures?"

Your captain, Viggo had said. Carefully chosen words, Orlando realized, words that let him answer truthfully, in and out of character. "Yes," he replied, the breath forced between his lips as he reacted to Viggo's touch.

Viggo applied himself to Orlando's flesh with more diligence than he had ever shown before, laving it with his tongue, teasing with his teeth, sucking strongly, then biting gently, using every bit of experience to tantalize Orlando like never before.

"And did it feel this good?" he asked eventually, his words tickling Orlando's skin.

"No," Orlando gasped honestly. As much pleasure as he had derived over five years of such caresses, none of them came close to what Viggo was doing to him now. Perhaps it was the moustache, which, for all that Orlando loved to complain about it, had an undeniable effect on his body. Perhaps it was the near-argument that they were resolving. Perhaps it was the separation, longer than usual, or so it seemed to Orlando. Perhaps it was all those things rolled together and more, but whatever the reason, the pleasure he was gaining from this encounter was like nothing that had come before. He shuddered with desire at the thought that the whole evening could be that way.

Viggo grinned, his lips still pressed against Orlando's skin. "Muy bien," he said, applying himself once more to his task. He sucked a nipple into his mouth again, more forcefully this time, causing Orlando to arch beneath him, their bodies rubbing together sinuously.

"Please," Orlando begged, his body moving restlessly, trying to find more friction, to find release. Viggo knew exactly how to keep him balanced on the precipice, but Orlando had no patience for that right now. He needed release from the tension, both physical and emotional, that had been building inside him for days.

Viggo was surprised by how quickly Orlando was reduced to pleading, but he did not question it. His goal now was to lavish as much pleasure on his lover as possible, and if Orlando was already at that point, Viggo was happy to oblige. He let his weight settle more fully on Orlando's lower body, providing the friction the younger man needed. Then, he returned to his ministrations, licking and sucking, nipping and biting until he could feel the tremors in Orlando's body that signaled his impending release. "Let go," he whispered, dragging his moustache across Orlando's nipple. "Come for me, mi corazonzito." He ground their hips together, pushing Orlando over the edge.

*****

Struggling to keep his own body in check, Viggo waited for the throes of passion to ease and for full consciousness to return to his lover before trailing his lips lower. His pride pushed him to make sure Orlando was aware of every caress, every brush of fingers and lips. Only then could he satisfy the demanding Latin lover inside him, the one that insisted he bring the younger man more pleasure than he had ever known. It did not matter that he knew he was the only man to have ever made love to Orlando. In character as he was, he needed to prove himself, to show Will exactly what he could have now that he had agreed to stay with Diego.

When he felt Orlando stir finally, Viggo let his lips move down his lover's torso, moustache brushing tantalizingly against each inch of skin as he sought Orlando's navel. He lingered there, his tongue flirting with the shallow indention, mimicking other, more intimate caresses. "Suavemente," he murmured when he felt Orlando start beneath him. "Relajate y goza."

Orlando tried to do as Viggo instructed and relax, but the brush of the older man's moustache was unbearably arousing against his skin. One part of him wanted to push it away, so overwhelming were the sensations. The other part of him wanted to push Viggo's head lower, to feel that touch in more intimate places. He did neither, letting Viggo have his way. His cock twitched despite its recent release at the thought of Viggo's lips - and his moustache - moving lower.

"What else did your captain teach you?" Diego asked in a falsely complacent tone. "Did he give you pleasure or only teach you to give it?"

"My captain is a generous lover," Orlando retorted, amused at defending Viggo to Viggo. "He always insisted I find release before taking his own."

"That is something at least," Viggo replied, heart warming at Orlando's words. He wanted Orlando to think that of him, to understand that Orlando's pleasure was always first in Viggo's mind. His lips trailed lower, across the sun tattoo that graced his lover's abdomen, just peeking out from the waistband of his low-slung trousers. "You wear a pirate's mark," he observed casually. "Did Sparrow do this to you?"

Orlando debated how to respond in a way that would be truthful in character and out. "No," he answered finally. "I had it long before I met Jack." His comment did nothing to explain the presence of the tattoo, but at least it took Johnny back out of the picture.

"Bien," Diego grunted, his teeth closing over the tattoo, biting down hard enough to pinken the skin. He raised his head and looked down at the discoloration with satisfaction. "Now you bear my mark."

Orlando jerked with surprise when Viggo's teeth dug into his skin, but he did not ask his lover to stop, not when the jolt of pain caused his cock to twitch in anticipation. He moaned in pleasure at the possessiveness he heard in Viggo's voice when his head rose. "Gladly," he murmured. As he spoke, he realized that he would gladly bear this mark, any mark of Viggo's for as long as he lived. They belonged to each other and nothing could change that. It was just time for them to act like it.

Viggo's eyes glittered with lust and love as he stared up from his place at Orlando's hip. "Mio," he repeated, pleased to see an answering glitter in Orlando's eyes. His head lowered again, finding the mark he had made, darkening it as he reached for the buttons that hid the rest of Orlando from him. His hands ventured in first, finding the somnolent organ within the blacksmith's breeches, feeling the stickiness left over from Will's earlier release.

Orlando squirmed uncomfortably when he felt Viggo's hand encounter the mess he had made. It should not have mattered, but somehow, in character, it did. "I'm..." he began, intending to apologize.

"¡No!" Diego scolded. "No me pidas perdon. It is a compliment to know I brought you such joy."

"Joy..." Orlando repeated softly. It wasn't a term they usually used when they spoke of their mutual pleasure. They tended to be a lot more blunt, even vulgar about it, time and trust taking away the need for dressing up what they did to each other. To hear the word now, in Alatriste's raspy tones, slower and deeper than Viggo's regular voice, slightly accented, even in English, reminded Orlando of what their relationship was truly about. They brought joy to each other, in all its myriad forms, and that was something that could never be replaced. He wanted to say, "I love you," to tell Viggo how he felt, but Will was nowhere close to ready to make that declaration to Diego, no matter how Orlando felt about Viggo. So he would have to find another way to let his lover know what he was feeling.

Will was shy, timid about his feelings and his new situation, but he was not inexperienced. He knew how to give the same pleasure that he was receiving. As he raised his hips to allow the pirate to draw down his breeches, he reached for Alatriste, urging him to move up and around on the bed, so that he could touch the other man even as he was touched.

Viggo almost resisted Orlando's rearrangement of their bodies. He wanted to focus entirely on his lover, on making him feel desired, cherished, loved, but he gave in, finally, choosing to indulge Orlando's desires as well as his own. "You need do nothing but enjoy," Diego felt compelled to say. He did not want the blacksmith to feel obligated to reciprocate.

"That is exactly what I intend to do," Will replied tartly, reaching for the braided leather belt that encircled the pirate's waist. "Part of my pleasure is pleasing you."

Viggo caught his breath as he felt Orlando begin to undress him. He had not intended for this to be reciprocal, but he would not tell his angel no. He would just have to distract the younger man so that he was too wrapped up in what Viggo was doing to think about returning the caresses. Otherwise, this game would be over far sooner than Viggo desired.

Intending to divert Orlando's attention, he lowered his head quickly, finding the head of the burgeoning erection and brushing his lips across it, letting his moustache tickle the sensitive tip. His tongue darted out and probed the slit that was already leaking again. "Que sabroso!"

Orlando moaned. Then, determined to return some of the pleasure Viggo was lavishing on him, he forced himself to focus enough to loosen the belt and buttons on Diego's trousers. Reminding himself not to be too bold, he traced the line of the pirate's treasure trail instead, feeling the furred skin under his fingers, tracing the new moon on the Spaniard's abdomen. "We match," he husked, eyes and digits lingering on the inked skin.

"In many, many ways, I hope," Alatriste responded.

"As do I," Will agreed. Orlando made himself say those words instead of assuring Viggo that they did indeed match in every way that mattered. That could wait until the game was over and they were out of character again. Instead, he lowered his head to the moon tattoo. He wanted to mark Viggo as Viggo had marked him, but Will was not so bold. He only dared kiss the skin, waiting for approval or encouragement to do more.

Viggo felt the caress and then the hesitation. "Hacelo," he urged. "Leave your mark on me."

Orlando did as Viggo urged, letting his teeth connect and worry the colored skin, pulling and sucking on it, pinching it between his jaws before soothing the sting with his tongue. The moans and gasps he heard escaping from his lover urged him on, making him work the mark with even more diligence until a reddish bruise covered the moon. Giving the tattoo one last lick, he raised his head and looked down at the pirate in his bed. "Now you're mine as well."

"Totalmente tuyo," Diego assured him. He pushed gently on Will's chest, lowering the young man back to the bed so he could resume his exploration of the blacksmith's groin.

Orlando acquiesced, letting Viggo have his way. He was certainly not about to complain about his lover giving him a blow job, especially not with that moustache adding to the sensation. He was not ready, though, to return to total passivity. Viggo was so careful about putting his pleasure first, and while Orlando was not complaining, he also was not going to let his lover forego his own pleasure this time. No, this time, they were coming together.

With that goal in mind, he undid the remaining fastenings on the pirate's breeches, opening the placket and slipping his hand inside to close around the hard shaft hiding there.

Viggo inhaled sharply when he felt Orlando's hands on him. That was not in the script! It seemed, however, that Orlando had decided to ad lib. He made himself turn his attention back to Orlando's body, doing his best to ignore the expert caresses his lover was bestowing. He bent his head again, lips trailing down the underside of Orlando's cock, tongue teasing along the engorged vein.

"Shit!" Orlando swore, unable to stop himself at the feeling of Diego's moustache teasing his most sensitive skin. "Oh, god, Diego..." he begged. "Please!"

Grinning at the thought that he had reduced Orlando to pleading already, Viggo lifted his head. "Please what?" he asked coyly.

"Take me in your mouth," Orlando replied, trying to remember that Will probably wouldn't have said anything quite so vulgar as "Let me fuck your mouth," which is what Orlando would surely have said if he hadn't been in character.

Viggo obliged immediately, his lips closing over the glistening head and sliding down toward the dark curls at the base, moustache tickling each inch as his lips moved.

Orlando quivered with helpless desire as Viggo's lips, tongue, and moustache drove him ever higher. He tried telling himself that this was just another blow job, except that no blow job Viggo had ever given him was *just* a blow job. Furthermore, with Diego's moustache added to the equation, this was not even simply one of Viggo's blow jobs. This was... his lust-addled brain could not come up with a word for the spine-tingling, sensual overload that was Viggo's mouth on his erection. He was sure his own wispy goatee and pencil thin moustache would not have anything like the same effect on Viggo, but he had to try or he would come again without returning any of the pleasure that Viggo was giving him.

He made himself turn his attention outward, pulling Viggo's organ free from his trousers, bringing it to his lips in what seemed to him a pale mockery of Viggo's expertise. He was sure Viggo would have argued that point, but Viggo never let him put himself down, no matter how justified Orlando considered the feeling. One more reason why he loved this man beyond words. Licking away the salty secretions coating the tip of Viggo's cock, Orlando closed his lips and sucked strongly, eliciting a deep rumble of a moan from Viggo's chest. The resultant vibrations only added to the arousal assaulting Orlando's senses.

Viggo felt his control waver when Orlando's mouth took him in. If he wanted to get Orlando off before he came himself, he was going to have to do it quickly. He slid two fingers into his mouth beside Orlando's erection, wetting them quickly. He worked them gently into Orlando's hole, knowing it had been a while since Orlando had been stretched. Even when they were apart, Orlando didn't use the dildo Viggo had once given him, insisting that he would rather go without than be filled by anything other than Viggo himself. Viggo couldn't help but be flattered by that, and it made reunion sex almost like the first time all over again, Orlando was so tight.

The burn of initial penetration licked its way down Orlando's nerves. He could feel his sacs drawing up and tightening in prelude to his orgasm. He almost mirrored the caress, but he retained enough of his sense of character to know Will would never dare impose that intimate a touch on a new lover, especially not one as imposing as Diego Alatriste. He did, however, reach out to cup Viggo's balls, adding that touch to the sensual overload.

With a moan, Viggo lost control, coming hard in Orlando's mouth, his hips rocking forcefully against his lover's lips, the frustration of their long separation and the intervening days together without making love making the pleasure of Orlando's lips more than he could resist.

Orlando, fortunately, was expecting it and willingly let Viggo fuck his mouth. The taste of the bitter fluid hitting his tongue combined with Viggo's fingers on his prostate and mouth on his cock was enough to have him climaxing, too.

*****

Viggo thought he knew his lover pretty well, thought he knew what to expect in certain situations. What he expected, after a mind-blowing orgasm like the one Orlando had just given him and the one he hoped Orlando had experienced, was an Elf intent on cuddling. What he got, this time, was nothing. Orlando lay exactly where he had collapsed, making no effort to move closer or to draw Viggo closer to him. He raised his head and looked down at the younger man. He almost said Orlando's name, but something stopped him. Whatever was bothering Orlando was still there. They had made love, but it had not touched the insecurity that had caused Orlando's earlier outburst. Deciding to continue as he had started, he nudged Orlando onto his stomach. "I'm not through with you," he growled in Diego's voice.

Orlando started at the movement and the sound of Viggo's voice. He had been drifting on what should have been an incredible post-orgasmic haze, but that was marred by the nebulous fears that had led him to attack Viggo earlier. They had so little time together, and while he never doubted that Viggo loved him, he wondered if the older man ever regretted the life they had to lead, sneaking around to see each other, only eking out stolen moments to be together when other commitments didn't demand their time. Would Viggo get tired, some day, of living that way? Would he grow weary of having to assuage Orlando's insecurities?

Those thoughts fled, banished by the sensation of Viggo's moustache moving down his back and Viggo's tongue tickling his spine. "Diego," he moaned, shifting restlessly.

Viggo intensified his caresses, nipping gently along the scar that paralleled Orlando's spine. He knew they were still playing their game, but a part of him wanted to hear his own name on Orlando's lips instead of his character's name on Will's. Time enough for that later, he reminded himself. Right now, he had a lover to claim.

With that thought in mind, he explored Orlando's back as thoroughly as he had earlier explored his chest, lingering over the curve of muscle and the thrust of bone, bestowing - and deriving - pleasure with each passing second.

Orlando squirmed beneath the erotically ticklish sensation of Viggo's moustache on his skin, coupled with the little flicks of tongue and hints of teeth. He could not help but marvel at how well Viggo knew his body, stopping to lavish pleasure on his most sensitive spots without neglecting even an inch of flesh. Despite the two orgasms he had already experienced at Viggo's hands, he could feel himself reacting again.

The little shifts in position told Viggo all he needed to know. He nudged Orlando's thighs apart with his knee and moved so he was kneeling between his lover's widespread legs. The sight that met his eyes had him grinning with delight, a distinctly un-piratish look, but that didn't matter. Orlando was not looking at him, and even if he had been, Viggo would not have hidden what he was feeling. Orlando needed reminding sometimes, he knew, just how much Viggo loved him. Maybe that was not what was behind the earlier outburst, but Viggo never minded showing his lover again just how much he adored him.

"Mi corazonzito," Viggo began, pouring his heart out in words he knew Orlando would not understand. It was not that he wanted to hide his feelings, but Orlando was still very much in character, and Viggo wanted to respect that. In Spanish, he could say what he was feeling, though it was far too soon for Diego to say those things, without Orlando knowing that he was breaking character. "Eres mi mundo, mi vida. Paso los días difíciles pensando en ti, sabiendo que tu tambien piensas en mi. Mi angel. Te amo."

The words washed over Orlando in a mostly incomprehensible flow. He recognized "corazonzito" and "angel" and he thought he heard "te amo," but he must have misunderstood. Not because Viggo didn't love him - he had no doubts about that - but because saying those words would not be in character, and Viggo was never the first to break character, no matter how Orlando pushed him.

Viggo lowered his head when he had made his declaration, his lips and moustache teasing lower, across the globes of Orlando's ass. At first, he simply ghosted over the top, enjoying the scent of sex that lingered after Orlando's two climaxes. Eventually, though, he wanted more, his hands coming up to caress and then spread the firm flesh, revealing the tight rosette that he had only begun to stretch earlier.

Orlando felt Viggo part his cheeks and he tensed, waiting for the caress he was sure would be next. On a normal day, being rimmed by Viggo was overwhelming. Orlando had no idea how he would survive now that Viggo was sporting that moustache. The extra sensations would surely drive him out of his mind.

Unaware of his lover's dilemma, Viggo blew gently across the furled opening, smiling when he saw the muscles clench and unclench reflexively. "Tan responsivo," he murmured again, praising Orlando for one of the many qualities that Viggo adored.

Orlando could not stop the moan that welled up within him at the feeling of Viggo's mouth so close and yet so far away. "Please," he begged, though he doubted Will would beg for anything but the lives of his friends. He was beyond such considerations. All he cared about was feeling Viggo's mouth on him.

The plea tugged at Viggo's heartstrings. "You never have to beg," he assured Orlando. "Just tell me what you want." Before Orlando could speak, he gave the blacksmith what he was asking for, closing his mouth over the entrance to his lover's body and sucking lightly.

Orlando moaned again, pulling his knees up under him so he could open himself even more for Viggo's caress. He had been right. The brush of Diego's moustache added the most erotic tickling sensation to the already mind-blowing feeling of Viggo's mouth. He quivered with anticipation and desire, wanting Viggo to breach him, to stretch him, so that he could fuck him.

Viggo, though, seemed determined to take his time and to draw out the sensual torture for as long as possible. Orlando knew he should not have been surprised. Viggo was an incredibly generous lover, always ensuring Orlando's pleasure before taking his own. He also enjoyed driving Orlando insane with lust. Not that Orlando complained about that. He'd have been a fool to do so when he got so much out of the arrangement. Now, though, with the time and the tension between them, he wished Viggo would hurry things up. They had precious little time until he had to return to the Caribbean and filming.

Viggo trailed his tongue slowly up and down Orlando's cleft, enjoying the flavor, cherishing the intimacy - and the freedom to be intimate - relishing the little sounds that escaped from Orlando's lips with each pass of his tongue, each brush of his moustache. Finally, though, he needed more, and he returned to the pucker of flesh with more deliberation, coaxing it to relax with little stabs of his tongue.

Desperate for more contact, Orlando pushed back against Viggo's teasing tongue. Viggo provided the resistance he needed, tongue spearing into Orlando's body. "At last!" Orlando groaned.

Viggo agreed with the sentiment, but he wasn't about to pull away long enough to say anything. Instead, he ran a hand over Orlando's hip, encouraging his lover to rock back again.

They established a rhythm, Orlando's hips pushing back against Viggo's tongue, then retreating as Viggo withdrew, the motion playing havoc with Orlando's nerves. Every time Viggo's tongue breached him, the older man's moustache rubbed along his skin, sensitizing every inch, until he was trembling again with desire.

Feeling the tremors wracking Orlando's body, Viggo shifted so that he could slide a hand between Orlando's thighs. He cupped his lover's sacs, squeezing gently to speed his release, wanting to lavish as much pleasure on his angel as he could.

The added stimulation had Orlando fighting for control, trying to stave off his release a little longer, just so he could continue to enjoy Viggo's attentions. He mewled in displeasure when Viggo raised his head. "Come for me," he urged before returning to his current obsession, driving his tongue as deep as he could, seeking - and finding - Orlando's prostate.

The words were all it took. Orlando shuddered as Viggo's ministrations drove him past the point of no return. His cock twitched against his stomach, dribbling fluid now, his two previous climaxes having drained him. The feelings, the rush of release, though, were just as intense as the first time. With a moan, he slumped down over his knees, completely boneless.

He could only groan when Viggo rolled him to his back and growled, "I'm not done with you yet."

*****

Orlando shook his head. "No more," he pleaded, the surfeit of pleasure from his three previous climaxes leaving him limp on the bed.

Viggo grinned down at his sated lover, reaching for the lube and coating his fingers. He slid one inside the passage already slick from his tongue. "Do you really mean that?"

Orlando shifted restlessly into the invading caress, knowing he would never pull away from Viggo's loving hands, from the feeling of any part of Viggo inside him. To do so would have gone against every fiber of his being. "Enjoy your treasure, Diego," he said simply.

"Tu eres mi tesoro, y lo has sido por cinco anos," Viggo declared earnestly, leaning forward to find Orlando's mouth in a kiss that had nothing to do with plunder and everything to do with the purity of emotion that swept his soul whenever he looked at the brunette. "Jeg elsker dig, Orlando," he said clearly, tired of the role, tired of the charade, tired of hearing another man's name on his husband's lips. He wanted to make love with the man who shared his life.

Orlando's eyes had drifted shut with the tender kiss, but at the change of language and of name, they flew open in surprise. Viggo never broke character first. Never. "Viggo?"

"I can't do this anymore," Viggo said, withdrawing his fingers and reaching for Orlando's hand. "I need you to tell me what happened, what I said or did to upset you."

Orlando felt his desire deflating at Viggo's words. He didn't want to rehash this, didn't want to admit to his insecurities. "I miss you when we're apart, and we've been apart so much," he struggled to explain. "Your words - Diego's words," he corrected himself, "played into my fears, my feeling of being alone when we're apart, and I lost it. Maybe you try to protect me from it, but you seem to handle our separations so much better than I do, and..." he trailed off, not wanting to admit he had doubted the depth of Viggo's feelings.

"I've had a lot longer history of enduring separations," Viggo pointed out slowly. "It doesn't make it easy. It's never easy to be away from you, but I've learned how to cope, how to find pleasure in other things - in my art, my poetry," he clarified, not wanting there to be any more misunderstandings, "when you aren't here for me to find pleasure with you. If we had chosen different professions, if we lived in a different world, I wouldn't willingly spend a night apart from you, but if we were not actors, we wouldn't have met, and while I despise the hypocrisy that binds us, I also know that prejudice exists, and that does limit us. I never meant to make you think I like being away from you."

Orlando shook his head. "No, I didn't think that. It just... God, I feel so stupid. Some days, I just want to leave everything behind and go hide." He looked up into Viggo's beloved face. "Is it worth everything we're giving up?"

"Being together is worth whatever sacrifices we have to make," Viggo declared firmly, "and nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever be more important to me than you are."

"I know that," Orlando replied. "I feel the same way. It's just harder to remember some days than others. I guess I needed the reminder."

Viggo nuzzled Orlando's neck. "I'll remind you as often as you need. Just tell me next time instead of swiping at me."

"I ruined our game, didn't I?" Orlando asked.

Viggo arched an eyebrow as he thought about the past minutes. "I wouldn't say ruined," he drawled. "Not when you got three orgasms out of it and I got one. And we're not finished yet. I've watched you and wanted you for four days now. I need to be inside you."

Orlando did not reply with words. Instead, he let his actions speak for him. He pulled his knees to his chest, spreading himself open for his lover.

The picture Orlando made, offered up so temptingly, strained Viggo's control. He wanted to make love to Orlando tenderly, to use his actions as a way to reiterate his recent declaration. It also gave him an idea. "Do you trust me?" he asked slowly.

"Yes," Orlando replied simply. The answer needed no other qualification.

Viggo moved Orlando's hands away from his knees and crossed Orlando's legs at the shins, one over the other, so that when he moved forward, each ankle was against his opposite shoulder. The position spread Orlando's knees even further apart, leaving him completely open to Viggo's gaze and his eventual penetration.

Orlando gasped as the muscles in his legs stretched to accommodate the new arrangement of limbs, the burn a pleasant precursor of things to come. He realized when he tried to shift a little that Viggo would have all the control with him this way. Orlando would only be able to lie there and accept Viggo's caresses. The thought only added to his arousal.

When Viggo's fingers began to stretch him, Orlando began to understand the allure of the configuration of limbs when he felt how deeply the artist's fingers probed him. "Oh, god," he husked, "feels so good."

Viggo smiled, scissoring his fingers. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Fuck, yes," Orlando replied, the combination of emotional stress and physical stimulation making him eager for the resolution he knew would come from their joining.

Viggo coated his cock with lube and lifted Orlando's hips, folding his lover almost double to get the right angle to insert himself. He leaned down and kissed the back of Orlando's thigh, nipping slightly as he pulled away, before lining himself up with the stretched portal and nudging his way inside.

"Oh, shit," Orlando moaned as he felt the thick head stretch him even more than the talented fingers had done. "Fill me up, love," he begged.

"I will," Viggo promised, "first with my cock and then with my come."

Orlando tried to reply, but only a strangled gasp came out. He grasped his widespread thighs, bracing them on his hands to ease the stretch just a little. Viggo's sudden groan surprised him. "Do that again."

Orlando's brow furrowed in confusion, but he did as Viggo asked, pressing his thighs inward slightly. "Damn," Viggo panted as he continued to pulse his hips against Orlando's ass. " Makes you even tighter than usual."

Orlando grinned. He liked that. Anything that made Viggo gasp and squirm was a good thing in his book. Deliberately, he squeezed his legs more tightly.

"Damn it, Orlando, you're gonna make me go off like a kid," Viggo groaned even as he continued to thrust into the tight, moist channel.

"'Bout time," Orlando teased breathlessly. "You... do it... to me... all the time." Feeling creative, he tried pulsing his thighs in time with Viggo's thrusts, hoping to add to the pleasure his lover was feeling.

Viggo hissed in pleasure, his hands stilling Orlando's thighs. "Not until you come," he insisted.

Orlando smiled. Viggo was such a considerate lover, never wanting to allow his own release until Orlando had found his. "Then make me," he demanded.

Viggo could not let that pass. He thrust faster, his hand moving between Orlando's widespread thighs to cup his cock and balls. He matched the movement of his hand to the movement of his hips and quickly reduced Orlando to grunts and groans of pleasure. Shortening his thrusts to continuously stimulate his lover's prostate, he pushed them both toward their climaxes. It didn't take long before Orlando spurted all over his chest, the angle of his body causing the creamy fluid to hit much higher than usual. The contractions of his channel around Viggo sent the older man over the edge and into his own orgasm. The waves of pleasure were intense, and all he wanted was to collapse forward into Orlando's arms. Their position, though, made that difficult. Gently, he withdrew and helped Orlando straighten out so he could lie flat on the bed. Viggo stretched out next to him. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you, too," Orlando replied, drifting between sleep and wakefulness.

Viggo smiled and nuzzled his husband's throat tenderly. Remembering what had led to this scenario in the first place, he added, lips moving against Orlando's skin, "So, who's the real pirate king?"

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Ariel Tachna

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